No Longer Alone
by Joey51
Summary: There's something to be said for knowing you're no longer alone.


A/N: I will post a proper update of Somewhere a Clock is Ticking soon, but until then, here's a short, experimental piece I wrote for smc (Storymom) a little while ago. Strangely, I think itmight apply more now than it did back then.

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**No Longer Alone**

You weren't quite sure when it all started, but every night, somewhere between sleep and consciousness, it entered your mind. Like a flash of something a little closer to home than lightning, making you jump with just cause because you were positive it could catch you.

And so it continued for weeks, and no one really noticed until you were caught in the kitchen before sunrise, two mornings in a row. Then they started paying attention. Then they started watching, which only made you more nervous, and sleep less common.

Kirsten first. It was Kirsten who first caught you half asleep in your own hands at the kitchen table just hours after everyone else had gone to bed. You later realized that even though she excused you like there was nothing abnormal about your actions, she knew. She knew you were fighting demons but she never embarrassed you with the words. She offered you coffee instead and joined you, nursing her own uneasiness in the delicate silence.

Summer caught you the next day, but she was far too concerned about sneaking out the back door unnoticed to give you too much grief. She jumped when she saw you, and you couldn't help but smile despite your current circumstances. Though she never brought it up to you personally, you noticed that it coincided with the start of Seth's random inquiries into your wellbeing. You did your best to ignore the pain that stabbed your stomach when you continually shrugged him off, vowing to be more careful in the future.

Sandy noticed much later. You couldn't help but be disappointed because, even though you lived by your mask, you really hoped he'd see. You needed to reaffirm your beliefs that Sandy was a little better than every other grown human being you'd ever come across. You knew it wasn't fair, and a little childish, to expect so much out of him, but he had set the bar high early on and rarely missed his mark. When he eventually caught you lounging on the couch in the middle of the night, staring blankly at a muted television, you knew he was aware. You could see it in the tired creases around his eyes that he knew instantly, even though it took him longer to latch onto the bait.

He barely acknowledged your presence when he sat down beside you, setting his elbows on his knees and rubbing deep circles over his eyes with the balls of his palms. You watched him carefully, warily—your stomach churning because you were suddenly unsure whether your problems were even worthy of acknowledgment given the sight before you.

He was still staring down at his feet when he finally addressed you. "Do you want to talk about this?"

You didn't answer immediately—not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't sure. Yes, you wanted him to notice, but, no, you didn't want to talk about it. So even though you were nowhere near his line of vision, you turned your face away and shook your head "no."

"Good," he whispered back, and suddenly you found yourself facing him because that was not even close to the response you were expecting to a head shake he couldn't possibly have even seen.

And then you saw it. You saw in him what you had so desperately wanted him to see in you for weeks now. The man who you had always believed was as close to a human replica of Superman that could possibly exist, was just as tortured as you. And you realized you should have been a little disappointed to lose your untouchable hero, but, for some reason, a strange calm swept over you—a feeling you hadn't experienced since well before your brother wrapped his fingers around your neck.

Sandy leaned back into the cushions and stared intently at the infomercial occupying the large screen on the wall—the trying events of the summer suddenly so visible on his drawn face.

You follow his lead and drop your heavy head into the soft cushions of the couch, unwilling to fight the plight of your weighty eyelids any longer. Maybe Kirsten or Seth or even Summer told him about your unusual behaviour, and maybe Sandy was just acting out of parental obligation, but there was no mistaking the deeply rooted understanding in his eyes. And even though you knew you wouldn't find rest in sleep for a long while to come, you could feel the tension creeping out of your muscles, because there was something to be said for the immeasurable relief of knowing you were no longer alone.

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Thanks for reading. 


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